


Birdwatching

by Pandsiper



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandsiper/pseuds/Pandsiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BLU Scout finds himself a spot in the center of a bloody attempt to take out BLU Sniper, the best and highest ranking member of both teams combined. In order to save himself and Scout, Sniper pushes his own limits to the point of no return. And even then it may not be enough.</p><p>**Discontinued!! But keep an eye out for the Birdwatching revamp fic!!**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Word Botching

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been discontinued! However, I am working on a revamp of it! It'll be BIGGER (maybe, lol) BETTER (hopefully) and with more FLUFF! Feel free to read this one though, as bits of it will carry over.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -Pandsiper

So what is it was strange? As if he cared about what people thought about him. Though he did just a little, even if he'd never admit it.

Scout sat against the short wall, his blue uniform reduced to an untucked white tanktop, beltless knickers, a micless hat, and unlaced shoes. It was fairly hot outside and given that he was hiding out in Sniper's nest, which had glassless openings for windows and no door to speak of above the tall ladder, it was nearly just as hot inside as it was out. The occasional breeze blew through the windows and kept it tolerable in the small room. Scout was hidden in the tiny landing that led to Sniper's perch. All that kept him from being seen was the angle he was sitting. Just so far inward towards the ladder that he could see Sniper without Sniper seeing him.

He listened quietly to his ipod, a gift from his mom for his birthday, and watched Sniper like a sleepy lion: interested but calm. Listening to music was one of the very few things that kept Scout quiet. And when he got the chance, he liked to sit by the ladder and watch Sniper work while listening to the calming, albeit few, slow songs he'd put in his ipod library. He often thought to himself _'What the hell are you doing, man? You're a grown guy watching another grown guy do next to nothing for the shit-sheer enjoyment of it! What are you, some lonely sobby fag?'_ But he kept watching and did so every chance he got. This was his 12th time in just two weeks. He didn't know why he kept count.

Sniper sat on a futon cushion he'd drug up from his van some time ago. He'd begun spending entire nights in the nest and found it more convenient to bring his sleeping arrangements to his work than leave his work to go to bed. He didn't sleep much anyways. _'Early to rise, early to kill some wankas.'_ he often recited to himself. As he sat, he slid a soft cloth over his rifle, wiping some invisible spot of blood or non-existent smudge from its barrel. He tried to make himself look busy, though he really had nothing to do. He tried to avoid looking at the landing leading to the ladder. Sniper couldn't see Scout, but he knew he was there.

Sniper had grown accustomed to Scout watching him and knew that he did it from the first day about two weeks before. Of course, Scout didn't know he knew. Sniper knew he'd have to call out to the boy eventually. Otherwise he was going to keep feeling awkward every time Scout showed up. It wasn't that he minded Scout watching him. He just didn't know what it was he did that interested Scout to the point of silence.  


He kept at his rifle, being extra thorough, considering calling out to him today. He turned the thought over in his head with the same careful precision and thoughtful gentleness that he used to turn his rifle over in his hands.

Scout watched Sniper clean his gun quietly. He payed close attention to Snipers hands. His normally gloved left hand was bare and he was gently cradling his rifle. _'Jeez, Snipah takes care of that thing like Fatty does Sasha.'_ Of course, he wouldn't tell Sniper that. A comment like that would likely get him kicked in the shin. Scout hated being kicked in the shin, more so than most people. And Sniper had done it before. Watching Sniper's hands closely, Scout could point out in his mind dozens of little cuts and calluses, bruises and worn, dry patches. Sniper's hands were definitely those of someone who had seen a lot of fighting.

But what fascinated Scout the most was how Sniper's hands were always so clean. Not a speck of dirt or dried blood anywhere on them. Scout looked down at his own hands. He'd fought a lot, but his hands were still soft save for some callouses at the joints of his fingers from holding his gun so tightly. He examined his nails closely and noticed what seemed an infinite amount of dirt underneath them, mocking him as if it were some crime to have dirt under your nails. He began picking incessantly at the grime, trying to get it out. It suddenly enraged him.

“Man, I ain't been here but a few months and my hands already look like shit. Snipah's got spotless hands and STILL looks badass from fightin' and killin' people.” He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it came out as a raspy whisper. As soon as he realized he'd spoken, Scout clapped his hand over his mouth, terrified.

“Oi,” Sniper called, “Scout, come on outta there, ya whacka.” Well, he couldn't pretend he didn't hear the boy.

Scout stood up weak-kneed and crept out from the walkway, a look of sheer terror in his eyes. _'Aw jeez, he knows, he caught me! What the hell am I gonna do now? He probably thinks I'm some peepin' faggoty asshole, now!'_ His thoughts ran wild as he stuttered, “Hey, Snipah... How ya doin, pal? Fancy meetin' you up here in... uhh... yer place.” He scratched his head under his hat and looked everywhere except Sniper's eyes, eventually letting his sights rest on the boarded floor.

Sniper rolled his eyes. “Scout I know ya been there all this time. I always know when you're there, ya dill.”

Scout tried to play cool. “Pfft, I dunno what you're yakkin' on about kangaroo-face. I just got here. You must be losin' it, pallie.” His voice pitched in weird places, his nerves getting the best of him. He finally, though mostly accidentally, locked eyes with Sniper, who gave him a disapproving look from over his aviators. There was a long silence.

Finally Scout opened his mouth and a flood poured out, “Aw, Snipah, I'm sorry man. I didn't mean nothin' by it and I wasn't wantin' to watch ya sleep or nothin' gay like that. I just like watchin' you up here is all, ya know? I ain't got many people round here that don't kick me out when I go see 'em, Hardhat's always busy and Fatty'll just go on about his guns and Cyclops is always drunk, and Pyro don't make no sense half the time and Spy just hates me and I figured if I didn't get caught I couldn't do no harm or nothin' by watchin' you up here. I just wanted some place to relax where I wouldn't be alone and then it just started getting' nice, watchin' you up here, it calms me down, ya know? Aw man, I'm real sorry.” His face glowed red as he took his hat off and wrung it roughly in his hands. His feet fidgeted beneath him nervously. He was so overwhelmed he didn't even notice Sniper had gotten up from his futon mattress and had walked across the room and now stood just inches from him.

“Scout,” Sniper started slowly and a heavy sigh escaped his thin lips. Scout looked up at him. “Scout, it ain't a big deal, awlrite? I don't care if ya come up 'ere. You just gotta keep yer yap shut, okay? I don't do much up here anyways, so I don't see what's so great about it to ya.” He moved across the room and pulled off his vest, leaving it on the mattress by his rifle.

Scout's eyes lit up and he grinned wide. A heavy weight of guilt dropped from his shoulders. “So I can stay? Really, Snipah?”

“Ah jeez, you say it like yer some kinda lost pup or somethin'.”

“Alright! I'll be good, man! I promise! You won't even know I'm here!”

Sniper didn't respond. Scout sat down on the mattress and looked around, enjoying the chance to get a better view of the nest now that he was really in it. His eyes fell on Sniper again who had his back turned to him. He was stacking some boxes of ammunition onto a small table by the front window.  
With his vest off, Sniper's button up shirt was revealed to be about two sizes to small for him and it hugged the man's body tightly. For the first time, Scout noticed how toned Sniper's back and arms were. Scout could easily make out the rigid muscles in the older man's back and quietly admired his thick, tanned arms, bulging with muscle built up from carrying heavy weapons around and climbing up and down ladders. Suddenly, he wanted to touch Sniper's arms, just to feel them. _'Woah, woah, woah...what the HELL am I thinkin'? I am a man. A manly man! Not some girly pansy pussy faggot. A real man. And real men don't think about other men like they're girls. Not even if they're as hot as Sni- NO, NO, NO. Stop it, brain! STOP IT!'_ Scout bashed at his own head with tightened fists, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block out the images his mind was forming.

Sniper looked over his shoulder. “Oi, you okay, Scout? What're ya hittin' yerself for?” He raised an eyebrow at the boy sitting behind him.

“I, uhh... I got this song stuck in my head. It won't get out.” Scout fumbled over his words.

“Try takin' yer headphones out'ya ears, dimwit.”

“What?” For the first time since Sniper had spoken to him, he noticed he still had his earbuds in and they were still pouring music into his head. “Oh, right.” He pulled them out and shut off his ipod, tucking it in his pocket.

“You got a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock, don't ya?” Sniper smirked.

Scout snarled at him. “I got what, fagface?”

“It's Aussie for 'yer dumb,' mate.”

“I- Oh if I had my bat right now, you freakin' outback-asshole, I'd-”

“You'd what, mate? Whattaya gonna do?”

“...Hmmph.” Scout turned away and set his head in his hands. He didn't want to make Sniper mad for fear of getting kicked out. Sniper picked up his rifle from the mattress and held it firmly as he stood by the window. He peered calmly through the scope and seemed to be readying for some sort of foe to show itself even though the day's fighting was done with. Scout took advantage of his distracted gaze and scooted closer to Sniper's vest on the futon mattress. He looked down at it like some thin gargoyle and fingered it lightly. It was thick and coarse, but had a certain warmth to it.

Slowly a pleasant scent rose up through Scouts nose and rested in his throat. _'Wussat? Smell's so nice...'_ He looked around. Sniper was still gazing through his scope into the arid desert. The only other things in the little nest room were the futon mattress, the table by the window, another table in the back with two thin wooden chairs and a stack of playing cards on top, a crate full of clothes, and a box full of empty mason jars, presumably used for Sniper's famous Jarate. There didn't seem to be anything in the room that could give off any specific smell. Scout looked back down at the vest. He lifted a corner of it and breathed in slowly. _'This! His vest! It smells like... like that hot tea stuff that mom used to make... what was it called...?'_ His thoughts drifted as he tried to pinpoint the name of the beverage.

“ Oi! What in the hell are you doin' to my vest, mate?” Sniper turned and lifted his glasses up, revealing his wide and confused eyes to Scout, who was still holding the vest up to his face, breathing deeply.

“Wha- Oh shit!” Scout suddenly realized what he was doing and tossed the vest across the the room. “I- I- I wa'nt doin' nothin' man. Just- It just smelled nice is all... I- Oh jeez... I'm such a fuckup. I'm makin' everything so awkward and dumb...” Scout's voice trailed off.

Sniper looked at him crookedly and then turned back to his rifle. He looked into the lens for just a moment before catching Scout's figure out of the corner of his eye. Scout was curled up with his knees to his chest and his hat twisted up in his fists. His face was ridiculously red and he seemed to be beating himself up inside for being so strange. _'Wonder what's got him so antsy. He's not like this durin' fights or even inside the base.'_ He decided he didn't want Scout feeling terrible, stuffing up the perch with bad vibes.

“Scout.” He looked over at the boy.

Scout glanced up at the tall man. _'Please don't kick me out, please...'_ “Yeah?”

Sniper sighed long and deep. “Scout, come 'ere.”

A flicker of hope, though he wasn't sure what for, welled up in Scout's heart. He stood up and walked the short distance across the room to Sniper. He still wrung his hat in his hands and looked down at his feet. “Yeah? What's up?” He said it quietly, something that caught Sniper off guard.

“Put yer hat back on an' hold out yer hands.”

Scout did as he was told. Sniper laid the rifle down gently in Scouts open hands. Then he pulled Scout closer to the window and turned him rather forcefully to face out the window. “Look out there in the desert, Scout. Ya see that rabbit?”

Scout, flustered and nervous, scanned the desert. “What rabbit? I don't see no stinkin' rabbit.”

The marksman pointed a long, thin finger out to the sandy wasteland and drew an imaginary circle around a large dusty hare near a bush. It was at least 150 feet away from the nest and just barely visible to the untrained eye. “That rabbit.” Sniper said simply.

Scout squinted and glared at the rabbit. “Oh yeah... I see it. What about it?”

“Shoot it.”

“You lost me, pal.”

“Shoot the rabbit with my rifle.”

“You gotta be kiddin' me. I ain't no snipah like you. I can't shoot no desert rabbit a million trillion miles away! And you're a crazy bastard for thinkin' I could!”

“Try.”

“Fine... asshole.” Scout scowled and held the rifle clumsily in his hands, squinting through the lens. His hands were placed awkwardly on the gun and he found it difficult to keep it held up to his face.

Sniper sighed once more and moved behind Scout. He reached over Scout's thin shoulders, an easy feat for a man of his height, and grabbed hold of Scout's clumsy hands.

Scout's breath hitched. He moved his eye from the lens and stared frightfully at his hands, now covered nearly completely by Sniper's. They were warm and firm against his thin fingers and he found himself wanting to turn his hand to hold Sniper's in his own. _'What is he doing? What the hell is he doing? Why is this... this faggoty... he's holding my hands! Why the hell is he holding my hands?'_

“Look, little joey,” Sniper moved to put the smaller boy's hands to their proper places on the gun. “You gotta hold the gun right before you can shoot anything.”

“My name ain't Joey.” Scout said plainly, though without much verve. He focused on the feel of Sniper's hands against his.

“It means a baby kangaroo.” Scout could feel Sniper's warm breath in his ear as he leaned closer over him to adjust his hands.

“You callin' me a baby?” Scout turned around slightly, only to find himself a few short inches from Sniper's face.

“I'm callin' you young, Scout. Which is what you are.” Sniper moved one hand long enough to pull his aviators up to sit on the brim of his hat and then replaced it over Scout's hand, still on the gun. He looked down at Scout with dark blue eyes. Scout looked into them for a long moment, and realizing if he kept looking he would melt, he quickly turned back around. He pulled the rifle up to his face, correctly this time, and looked back through the lens. With the speed and precision of a professional, Scout locked in on the unsuspecting hare and gave one quick, fatal headshot.

“AHAHA!! I got 'im, Snipah! Did ya see that?!” Scout bounced around the nest happily. Sniper raised an eyebrow and held the rifle up himself, looking through the scope. Sure enough, there by the bush, the hare lay dead, blood oozing from its skull. _'I gotta admit, I'm impressed. O'course he's trained to hit targets while he's runnin' so a rabbit sittin' still couldn't 'ave been much trouble for him. Kid's got good aim.'_ Scout ran up to the window and pointed down to the rabbit. “I got 'im good! On my first try, too! He ain't nevah gonna see the light of day again!”

Suddenly, Sniper caught a glimpse of something red in the distance. He looked at Scout who was oblivious to the glowing red dot on his head as he looked out the window at the rabbit. “Scout! Ge'down!”

Without thinking, he grabbed Scout hard and pushed him across the room. A roaring bullet flew past Sniper, right where Scout's head would've been. Sniper swiped up his rifle and quickly fired back. He missed and ducked to the side, dropping to a sitting position on the floor to reload his gun. Several SMG bullets pelted the little nest.

Scout looked at Sniper with fear written all over his face. “S-Snipah...? What the hell is going on?”

“RED Sniper tried to shoot you. Hell if I know why. It's cease fire right now and he ain't got no bizzo with you, not that I'm aware of. Just stay over there, awlright? I'll take care of this fuckah.”

“Yeah, okay...” Scout curled up and watched Sniper reload his rifle and ready his SMG if he needed it.

Sniper waited until there was a pause in the fire and popped up in the window. He quickly scanned the RED buildings across the empty battlefield and picked out a hatted red figure in a window some ways off. He pulled the trigger but only got the man's shoulder. Sniper ducked again and reloaded his rifle. “Got his arm. He's crippled now. If I can just get a clear headshot, this'll be a piece of piss.” Sniper grinned at Scout, which made the shaking boy feel a bit better.

The marksman peeked up in the window once again, but this time he didn't have time to shoot. Another figure was now beside the RED Sniper. _'Oh, no. No no no, not this. Fuck if I let this happen.'_ Sniper jumped down and landed hard on top of Scout.

“Pyro!! Get down!” Sniper covered Scout as best he could with his own body, holding the boy's head into his chest. The words barely registered in Scout's mind. He suddenly found himself wrapped tightly in Sniper's grasp and Scout realized the magnitude of the situation just as the flare bomb blasted into the back corner of the nest. _'Snipah's tryin' to save me.'_ The thought sprinted through his mind as the exploding world around him began to catch fire in slow motion. _'He's tryin' to save me. And I'm just here. Just here bein' useless.'_

Sniper lifted himself from Scout and looked over to see a huge flaming hole in the corner of the nest. He vaulted up and pulled Scout to the side, off of the mattress. Picking it up like it was a feather, Sniper threw the mattress down on the fire, stifling it, and turned to find his rifle. With no regard to safety or caution, he threw the rifle up to his face and quickly shot the Pyro square in the skull. _'I always did aim best under pressure'_ Sniper thought briefly to himself. He ducked in time to watch the RED Sniper's bullet fly past him. He turned and looked down at Scout who was sitting in the corner under the ammunition table, hands over his ears. He looked up at Sniper.

“Lawrence?” Scout said it quietly and fearfully. “What the hell are we gonna do?”

Sniper wasn't used to hearing his name from any team mate. Let alone Scout. He swallowed hard. “Scout... Kurt... Just hold tight, kid. I'm gonna get us outta this.” He was surprised he remembered Scout's name. He leaned over and fired once again at the RED Sniper. Again, he missed. He ducked back and slumped down next to Scout and began reloading.

Suddenly there was a jerk underneath them. The nest began to lean to the side. The fire had spread out from under the mattress and down to one of the legs of the tower. It quickly ate away at the wood and the nest began to fall to the side. Scout screamed and grabbed onto Sniper's arm. Sniper covered Scout's head with his arms and braced for the impact.

 

Scout opened his eyes, but all he could see was dull red. He pulled away to see he'd been cradled by Sniper from the impact. But now, Sniper was curled up on his side and his chest and arms were bleeding.

“Aw shit, no no... Snipah!” He rolled the limp man over on to his back and leaned over him. “Snipah, wake up, man! Quick dickin' around with me. Wake the fuck UP!” He smacked the older man across the face a few times and soon, Sniper was coughing and breathing heavily. _'Oh thank god'_ Scout thought to himself. He looked around and noticed the two of them were surrounded by flaming boards and spilled ammunition. He stood up, though he was tired and his legs ached, and looked at the wreckage of the nest behind him.

The next thing he knew, Scout was being held up by the neck by the RED Sniper. Still bleeding from his wounded shoulder, the manic Sniper had somehow made it across the battlefield, rifle in hand, and had the strength to hold him up. He held the rifle's barrel against Scout's forehead and grinned.

“Mffuh ffkkh,” Scout coughed and gasped for breath, trying all the same to spurt out insults at the man.

“Now, now, Scout. Don't struggle. It just makes yer death that much messier, and I ain't gonna be the one to clean up yer pieces.” His face was rough and his teeth were jagged. Beneath his glasses, Scout could make out two dark, evil eyes. _'No... I don't want this fucker to be the last thing I see. Please, Sniper, please... get up... get...'_

Satisfied that the writhing boy was unconscious, RED Sniper chuckled to himself, ready to pull the trigger. Suddenly, there was a deep, intense pain in his stomach. He looked down and saw the pointed end of a machete jabbing out from just under his lungs. A heavy, raspy voice found its way to his ear from behind him.

“You wanna tell me why you're tryin' so hard to kill Kurt?”

“We've watched him...” The RED Sniper sputtered as blood ran from his open mouth, “he's been comin' to see ya. We wanted to mess with ya. Psychological warfare, mate. Death by death of the one you love.”

Sniper ripped the knife upwards, through the other's body and all the way up through his skull. Sure of his work, he walked over to the collapsed Scout.

“I ain't said nothin' of love to Scout.” He muttered as he looked down at the boy, now gasping and wheezing for air. He leaned down and, ignoring the splitting burning pain in his arms, picked Scout up and held him close. Kicking the remaining smoldering pieces of the nest out of his way, Sniper ran to the Medic's office. He knew Scout would be fine. But he wasn't sure if his own body would hold up.


	2. A Little Less Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout and Sniper learn a bit about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. I had a bit of trouble making everything sound right in this bit, and I've been rather busy otherwise. The next chapter will come much sooner. Promise.

The next time Scout opened his eyes, he was looking up at a bright fluorescent light. He winced at the brightness pounding into his eyes. Sitting up on the bed in Medic's infirmary, he noticed his neck was sore. All at once, the memories of what had happened just before flooded his mind. _'Oh jeez... no no no... Snipah.... Where's Snipah?'_ He jumped up out of the bed and looked around. To his left was a curtain splitting the room in half. He threw it open revealing a semi-conscious Sniper on another of Medic's beds and a bored looking Medic hovering over him. The doctor looked up at Scout.

“Oh. It's you. Vell, I vill leave you two alone, zen. Scout, don't let him get up. Nozhing it wrong vith his legs, but he lost a lot of blood and shouldn't be up for a vile.” Medic left the room silently.

Scout ran over to Sniper's bed and looked down at him. His hat and glasses were missing. His arms were wrapped up tightly and his shirt was removed, revealing his chest was heavily wrapped as well. An IV of some kind of fluid was pumping through the top of his hand and another IV of blood lead to the inside crook of his elbow. A medigun was hung above him, shooting an endless stream of blue light onto the older man. He was sweaty and his breathing was unsteady, but he was alive.

“Aw jeez...” Scout sighed, “I- Lawrence, I'm so sorry... I don't even remember what happened. How'd you get hurt so bad?”

“I saved your ass when the tower fell. Let's just say I didn't exactly land on the dullest, softest pieces of burning wood while I was trying to cover your sorry wankah ass.” Sniper's breath was ragged, but he spoke well enough in his usual dark, raspy voice.

Scout thought for a long time. Finally he looked down at his feet and said, “Hey, Lawrence... I was pretty out of it but I can remember... That other Snipah said he wanted to kill me cus he knew it would make you mad. Cus he knew you cared about me... S'at true?”

Sniper thought about the question and searched for the right words. Finally he settled for something simple. “Kurt, if he would'ah killed you, I would'ah ripped him apart with my bare hands and then hunted down his family and killed them, too. You're my team mate, Scout. And you're my friend. Killin' ya durin' fights is one thing. We got respawn then. But if he killed you durin' cease fire, we wouldn't get ya back, mate. And that just doesn't sit too well with me.” Simple, though probably the longest statement he'd ever made to Scout. Possibly to anyone since he'd joined the BLU team. He felt uncomfortable talking so much.

Scout felt his heart trip over itself. He let a breath he'd been holding in drop from his nose. Crossing his arms, he looked down at Sniper and smirked. “I _knew_ ya liked me, kangaroo-face! Just don't go getting' all faggoty on me, alright?”

The older man gave the young boy a disapproving look and rolled his eyes. “Do you just naturally assume that if a mate has a male friend, he's gay? Seems awfully close-minded of you, mate. Will you hand me my hat and glasses?”

The boy looked around and found the hat and glasses on a small table across the room. “You ever hear a straight dude say he 'cares' about another dude?” He said as he handed the hat and glasses to Lawrence. Sniper didn't answer. “I didn't think so, chucklenuts.” Scout grinned. He sat down on the edge of Sniper's bed and watched as the older man slid his glasses over his ears and up onto his nose. He then carefully placed his hat back on his head and silently swung his legs over the bed, careful to keep the IVs in his arms from moving too much. If he wanted to leave, he was probably going to have to take them out.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Scout jumped up and grabbed Sniper's shoulders, though the marksman didn't struggle. “Doc said you couldn't get up. You got split open and bled like a freakin' bitch on her bloodbath. Ya can't just get up and walk it off, old man.”

“I'm fine. Get out of my way.”

Scout was taken back by the sudden harshness in Sniper's voice. For a moment, he wanted to let him go out of fear he might make him mad. But he didn't want Sniper to hurt himself, and it'd be just like him to be in pain and not say a word about it.

“Absolutely not, pal. You get back in that bed.” Scout pushed on the man's shoulders but to no avail. The older man barely budged.

“Scout, take your hands off me and let me leave.”

“Why should I?” He gripped tighter on his friend's shoulders.

“Because I bloody told you too.” Sniper growled.

“Doc said no walkin' so you ain't walkin'!”

Sniper sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Scout, I gotta take a piss, and I'd rather not have an escort.”

Scout looked around and found a jar of cotton balls on the counter near the bed. He unscrewed the lid, emptied its contents, and handed it to Sniper with a wide smile. “There. I'll turn around so I ain't watchin' you or nothin'. You just stay in bed and piss to your heart's content, pallie.”

Sniper cocked an eyebrow. Scout crossed his arms and turned his back to the marksman. “ 'Sides, you can use it later when we're on the field. I'm pretty sure all the jars in your tower were empty, and even if they weren't, they're worm food now.”

Scout had a point. Sniper looked down at the jar. He wasn't particularly proud of his nasty war tactic. But being that he had to do a lot of perch camping, it helped to be able to relieve himself and then have a means to rid himself of the jars. They had come in quite handy on numerous occasions. Soaking enemies in piss had the fantastic effect of making them easier to kill. But even still, it was a disgusting habit. _'It's doing shit like this that keeps me from hangin' on to a girl for very long.'_ Sniper sighed and, remembering that being in a land completely void of women aside from the higher ups made it a moot point, slid his legs back up on the bed and then across to the other side. Now his back was to Scout's back. He couldn't do this sort of thing in front of Scout, even if the boy's back was turned.

Carefully keeping the IV tubes out of his way, he unzipped his pants and began peeing into the jar, trying to ignore the fact that Scout had ears and could obviously hear noise of the jar filling up. When he was done, the jar was nearly full. He waved a hand in Scout's direction. “Oi, 'and me the lid, will ya?”

“Oh, sure.” Scout grabbed the lid from the counter and handed it to Sniper, careful to avert his eyes completely, though something in his gut told him he didn't really want to. He pushed the thought away.

Sniper screwed the lid on tight and set the jar down on the floor beside his bed. He zipped his pants back up, sat up properly on the bed, albeit with some pained difficulty, and looked over at Scout, who still had his back turned. “I'm done, mate. Thanks, I guess.”

Scout turned around and grinned. “No problem, pal. Thanks for not making me kick your ass for trying to get up.”

Sniper couldn't help but smile. Scout could be a huge pain in the ass, but it helped to know he actually cared in his own way.

Scout sat back down on the edge of the bed. He thought for a moment. “Sniper,” he began, “Why would anyone want to fuck with you so bad that they needed to kill me just to piss you off?”

The marksman sighed. “Because I'm the vet of the teams.”

“Huh?”

“I've been around here longer than anybody else on either team. I have the highest ranking, too. A lot of 'em feel like they need to kick me of my high horse.”

“You've been here the longest? But the doc is older than you isn't he?”

“It's not a matter of age, Scout. I was on BLU team long before the doc was. All of the original BLU team I started with are either dead or gave up and left.”

Scout looked hard at Sniper, trying to formulate something smart to say. He couldn't think of anything.

“The scouts are always the first to go.” Sniper sighed. “I've seen more of ya ankle biters than I can count. I've only gone through a couple or so of the others. That's why I stay away from ya for the most part, or tried to. I didn't, and still don't, want to get attached to you. 'Cause even if you don't give up and leave the war, you'll be the first to permanently go. It's just the nature of things.”

“So why do you care so much? Why'd you save me?” Scout let more anger into his voice than he intended. He was hurt by the older man's outlook on his class.

“Well... 'Cause I like you more than the others. You're different somehow.”

Suddenly, all the anger left Scout completely. He couldn't be mad at a statement like that. But he also couldn't show his emotions. He looked down at his hands and tried hard to sound meaner than he felt. “I told you not to get all gay on me, man.”

That sent Sniper over the top. “DAMMIT, KURT! Can't you stop bein' a homophobic moron just long enough fer a man to get his fahcking words out without bein' accused ah bein' a fag? I fahcking LIKE you Scout. I don't LOVE you. I don't want to fuck you or be intimate with you or anything like that! So let yar damn guard down for a minute and just accept the fact that somebody besides yer mum actually gives a shit about ya, awlright?” The older man fumed and stared burning stakes into the boy on his bed.

Scout's eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open just slightly. He saw the frustration in Sniper's eyes and it hurt him badly. He couldn't find words for how deeply he felt the pain of Sniper's outburst. The worst of it was that Scout knew he deserved it. Here he was, secretly pining for Sniper to love him, he had to face that fact now, and all he'd done so far was run his homophobia into the ground at Sniper's expense. He was disgusted with himself. He sat in silence, looking into Sniper's eyes for a long moment. Finally, he swallowed hard and said in a quiet, raspy voice, “I'm sorry, Lawrence.” It was all he could think to say, though he was sure it meant nothing now.

The hurt in Scout's voice shot through Sniper like a bullet through wool. Something in the boy's voice broke his heart and he could tell something was terribly wrong. His gaze softened on the slim figure of the young man. “Kurt,” Sniper's voice was much calmer now. Almost loving. “What's wrong, mate? I can tell somethin' in't roit with ya. You been bugged all day...”

Scout was silent, and instead turned back down to look at his feet.

“Scout, talk to me. I'm-” Sniper sighed, “I'm sorry fer yellin' at ya.” He rubbed the back of his head, not sure how to handle the boy.

For another moment Scout was silent. He thought hard about what to say. It took him a while to find the words he wanted. He didn't want to sound like a kid to Sniper, but he also couldn't just lay his heart on the table. He let out a short sigh and said, “Snipah, Lawrence... I... I didn't mean to be so harsh to'rds ya. Growin' up with my bruthuhs, you know, they didn't take gays lightly. Beat the shit out of every one they met. I guess... I guess I'm just afraid that if I find out a guy likes me, that I might end up liking them back... and I can't go home to face my bros if they know that about me. They'd disown me. Ma might be okay with it, but not my bruthuhs. They'd never want to see my face again.”

Sniper wasn't sure how to feel about the idea of Scout liking him in a romantic way, but decided to push the thought aside and save it for later. He had other things to think about. “Is that really what's buggerin' you, Kurt? You're worried you'll actually like me back?” Suddenly, Sniper felt terrible for screaming that he was uninterested in romance. “Kurt, my parents have held my job against me from the day I started. I know exactly what you're talking about, mate. It's hard, I know. But you gotta remember, you are who you are, not who they want you to be. You have the right to like, even love, whoever you want to, mate. I know it's tough when yer family don't approve of your lifestyle. But that's just more'a reason to prove to them that there's nothing wrong with it.”

Scout looked up at Sniper. Shirtless, bloody, and obviously exhausted, the older man resembled a lone wolf who'd just come home from taking down a bear. His body glowed blue with healing light from the medigun and, in a way, made him look like a ghost. Sniper's words resonated inside Scout's mind like the swelling feelings in his heart. For the first time, somebody listened to him. Growing up lowest on the totem pole, in a city where your voice is determined by your status in gangs or the underhanded businesses, coming to the Builder's League and being shooed away by everyone outside the battlefield, Scout had never once had a chance to tell anyone about his problems, let alone have them give him advice in return. And here before him, in all his glory and honesty, was Lawrence, a trained and merciless killer who'd seen everything there was to see across the Badlands, who knew every map and every base like the back of his hand, who knew death in a place where death barely existed, the manliest man Scout knew, telling him, with all the sincerity and wisdom of a Catholic nun, that if he wanted to be gay, it was his own right. His own personal, ass-fucking, man-snuggling, unholy-sexual-thought-provoking right. For a long time, Scout was fairly certain rights didn't exist; Only rules. Sniper told him otherwise. And against everything he was told growing up, everything ever drilled into his head by his brothers and peers, he believed the older man.

“Wouldja talk to mah bruthuhs for me, then? 'Cause I wanna love...” Scout reconsidered his words, “I do wanna be able to like who I want without knowin' I couldn't go back to a safe home for Christmas or nothin'. You make everything sound like a kids' cartoon- the good always wins and everything's perfect. Like everything'll work out with a happy endin'.”

Lawrence studied the boy's face. It was softer now, less upset, and his words were honest and purposeful. This was a Kurt that Lawrence hadn't seen. An honest, sincere, and quite obviously confused and scared Kurt that had probably never seen the light of day before. The marksman sighed, but accompanied it with a smile. “Sure, mate. If I ever get the chance, I'll have a sit-down with your family an' see if I can convince them not to throw you out on your ear.”

“Really?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“No reason, I guess. Just not used to people doin' favors for me.”

“You're not used to a lot of decent human behavior, are ya, mate?”

“I guess not.”

There was a short pause. Scout looked at the clock on the wall behind Sniper. “It's past nine, man. You need some sleep. We got a fight tomorrow, ya know.” He grinned at the older man.

“What? Past nine already? Fuck. I spent the whole afternoon savin' your sorry ass.”

“Wouldn'tah happened if you shot the Snipah in the skull your first try, chucklenuts.” Scout grinned.

“Nah, you know if ya weren't up in my perch watchin' me like the damn Spook, that Sniper wouldn'tave shot at you in the first place.”

Scout looked back down at his feet. “I'm sorry about that.”

“I'm just shittin' with ya, mate. It's not a big deal. I'll need a new perch. But there's lots of places around here. And you're still welcome to join me when all the fightin's over. We've just got to be careful.”

Scout stood up and walked to the door, stopping before he left to glance once more at Sniper. “Thanks. I'll take ya up on that offah, Lawrence. Now get some shut-eye, alright?”

“Yeah. You too, Kurt.”

And with that, Scout left the infirmary.

Not quite willing to go to bed, Scout remembered that Sniper didn't have any weapons with him besides his knife and found himself among the wreckage of the perch. The sky was now pitch black and he struggled to see as he flipped the charred boards, searching for Sniper's guns. Seeing a rifle on a pile of rubbish, Scout reached down to pick it up, only to find that it was hung on something. He knelt down and ran his fingers along the band of the rifle's carrying sling. He followed down to the sorce of the snag. It was wrapped around something damp and heavy. The futon mattress? Scout leaned in closer and tried to make out what the rifle was attached to.

Suddenly, as his eyes finally adjusted, Scout realized what it was. RED Sniper's body. He stumbled backwards, dropping the snagged rifle back onto the body. With now adjusted eyes, Scout could see that the poor sod was split straight up the middle from his waist. Everything came together now. While Scout was out cold, after they'd briefly spoken, Lawrence had sliced the bastard straight up his body and left the corpse to rot. Scout suddenly realized his life may be more important to Lawrence than he originally thought.

He shook himself free of the corpse's distraction and reminded himself of why he was there in the first place. The rifle on the dead body obviously belonged to the RED Sniper, and Lawrence would definitely know the difference. Scout continued to search the rubble until he located the rifle and the SMG. He carefully took both back to his room in the base, knowing that if he took it to the infirmary, he'd never want to leave Sniper's side. With both guns propped against the wall opposite of his bed in the tiny room, Scout quickly went to sleep, looking forward all too eagerly for the next day. Now that he knew Lawrence was warming up to him, perhaps he could drag the love out of the marksman.


End file.
